A Wanton's Thief (12 page)

She nodded, mortified by the blatant terms. Salena could have sworn the roots of her hair ignited with the heat of embarrassment.

“No. I must have the real thing. Pussy, woman, even oral stimulation by a woman works,” he said hotly into her ear. At his brazen words, shivers shimmied down over her flesh, but she made no indication of his influence over her. “I must push my cock into the wet folds—or mouth—of a female and release my semen in order to replenish my strength.”

Or mouth? His words conjured up all sorts of wicked images. It brought a hot rush of stickiness to her core. “So if I can somehow deny you, your hocus-pocus dies out?”

“You are not the only woman in the world, Salena, with a mouth and a tight cunt and pearly-white, slick juices.”

She stiffened. Perplexed now at her own emotions, she wondered why the thought of him with another woman increasingly seemed to irritate her as the day passed. “Ah, another woman like Molly? Or just like you’ve tried to offer me to another man?”

The sounds of idle conversation gradually escalated as they drew nearer to camp. The delicious aroma of roast pig drifted on the air. Salena’s stomach growled in anticipation of food to fill that empty space in her abdomen. Up ahead, she could see dozens of men dressed in much the same manner as Falcon. They lingered around a massive fire where a pig had been strung over the flames.

Falcon tightened his arm around her, pressing her back against the tight wall of his chest. In a low growl, he said, “I will never give you up to another man. Never. You are mine for as long as I want to have you. John will but sample you as decreed our brotherhood. And one trio session is all that is required to give us both a massive dose of long-lasting powers…for a time, anyway. When it is done, you may choose to deny him forever, if that is your wish.”

“Having one woman together in a trio is nothing more than a selfish way of strengthening your black magic?” Her voice came out shrill and indignant.

“That and the sheer pleasure of it, of course.”

“Ha!” She tossed her head back, the hood of her cloak falling across her shoulders. “Then you
both
can just go and find some other woman who’s willing to give you what I refuse to.”

“Falcon!” The voice sounded like an angel’s. From the crowd of several score of men emerged a figure dressed just like all the other outlaws. Only this figure possessed the soft curves of a woman. She leapt into a sprint and approached the horse, her feet coming to a halt when her eyes finally rested upon Salena’s face.

Salena had never regretted her words more than she did at this moment. Stunned, she looked down into the most beautiful, striking features she’d ever seen. Jealousy burned in her abdomen. A sudden need to take back her saucy suggestion of using another woman plagued her.

Her gaze swept the woman from the tall, shapely form clad in men’s clothing to the long pair of golden-blonde braids resting upon massive breasts. Salena knew her first-ever sudden yearning to slap a woman’s face.

And in her gut, she knew this to be Falcon’s woman.

Chapter Seven

Falcon looked down into Grizella Kenrick’s gorgeous face. Somewhat self-destructively, he allowed the guilt to spear him arrow-tip sharp. Why hadn’t he thought of her before now? Ever since he’d snatched Salena from her chambers, he’d not given Grizella another consideration. Not even to stop and think that he may be subjecting Salena to this hellcat’s wrath by bringing her here—or subjecting Grizella to emotional pain.

Though looking now upon Salena’s snarling profile, he wondered if Grizella would be in for the fight of her life instead.

The woman had never been a true love interest of either Falcon or John. Grizella was one of their fiercest warriors and he’d always admired her courage and tenacity. True, he and John had had their power-energizing romps with her, especially on long raids in which they’d go for weeks without other female contact. Grizella knew the score. She gladly gave of her talents and then some without so much as a single complaint or demand. There were no ties, no pairing off or sharing space as a committed man and woman might. The three of them always went about their business uniting only when libidos demanded it. Theirs was an understanding of minimal necessity…at least that’s what he’d thought. Grizella had never before now made any territorial claims on either Falcon or John.

He twisted his mouth into a wry grin.
Well, I suppose she’s had no reason to complain until now, until spying this lovely, gracious creature in my arms.

“Hello, Griz.” He dismounted and drew Salena down. The two women never took their narrowed eyes from one another. Though he’d normally have laughed it off, he knew this situation did not merit humor, at least not for the time being.

“Falcon.” She said it tight and formal, her amber eyes glittering like a cat nonverbally making her territory known. “You’re late. I’d begun to worry over your welfare.”

“Well, I had a bit of a delay.”

Grizella crossed her arms under her ample bosom. “I see that,” she said through clenched teeth, one booted foot tapping in the snow.

“Who is this woman?” Salena suddenly asked, whirling toward him. Would it be wrong, Falcon wondered, to glorify in the sharp tone of jealousy he heard in her voice?

He sighed. “Lady Salena Tremayne, meet Grizella Kenrick, my…most trusted warrior.”

“
Pleased
to make your acquaintance, lady.” Grizella thrust out a calloused hand daring Salena to take it.

She accepted the offered hand and shook it with female gentleness, her mouth compressed into a firm line. “Likewise, Miss Kenrick.” She nodded, the ever-regal princess. Her composure did something to Falcon’s innards, twisting them with a vile combination of admiration and disappointment at the fact that she did not spit back.

Finally, Griz swung her gaze up to snare him with her suppressed fury. “Shall I find her a place to bed down for the night, Falcon? Eh?”

He winced. His stomach twisted in knots. “Well—”

John suddenly materialized at Grizella’s left. “Falcon must guard her, Grizella. We have a…situation going on in which she must be protected at every moment of the night and day.”

Ah, thank the gods for John’s quick thinking!

Grizella whipped her head around and snared John with a mind-your-own-business look. “Who asked you, giant?”

Now that he had his bearings a bit more straight, Falcon spoke with the assurance of a leader. “Griz, he speaks the truth. And you will cease with the sass and show John respect.”

She blinked, her stare moving over all three of them, one at a time. The last victim was Falcon. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

Salena gasped. Her hand shot up to slap Grizella but Falcon caught her wrist just in time. “Enough! Out of both of you.”

His charged spell-gaze moved to Grizella who stood with her hand on the hilt of her hunting knife. “You will go now, Grizella, with John and prepare for the coming raid.”

Falcon glanced at Salena’s surprised expression when, by the command of his spell, Griz turned toward John, a glitter of anger simmering in her eyes. John put his arm across her shoulders and, together, they both disappeared into thin air.

Salena blinked at the illusion, but Falcon was too wary to elaborate for her benefit. With her faced turned toward him now, he snared her with his controlling stare. “You will go with Gowain there—” he jutted his chin toward the young man who sprang into action, “—and he will show you my place of rest. And you will not ever attempt to lay a hand on that woman again.”

Salena’s gaze narrowed and he thought at this moment she more resembled that spitting cat than Grizella had. “I loathe you,” she snarled under her breath as her body moved into action. He watched as she trailed off following Gowain, his gaze lingering on the vague sway of hip beneath fabric.

“Ah, well, it seems you’ve captured the maiden’s heart. And she yours.”

Falcon spun to see Lorcan sitting upon a low oak limb that jutted out parallel to the ground. Snow fell around him in a shower of white flakes yet it seemed not to touch him. He wore the usual black monk’s robe and his long silver hair and beard stood out stark against it. Around his neck he wore the usual
Centaurus
medallion. Its large blue, cat’s-eye-shaped stone glowed even by the dull light of the waning day, the silver chain dangling long to his breastbone.

Falcon had been told it was the medallion that would one day be passed down to him.

“Your jesting normally tickles my heart, old man. But alas, I see no humor in my dire situation.”

Lorcan stabbed his crystal staff into the snow and leapt from the limb. The wizard, Falcon thought, was so much more agile than his feeble body appeared.

“Eh, ‘tis not a situation, son. ‘Tis fate.”

Falcon strode to a fallen tree trunk and sat. He spoke while studying the busy activities of his many loyal men as they prepared for nightfall. Some set up watch in designated trees, others formed snug beds into the recesses of the cliff they’d claimed as a protective wall. Others still, fashioned tents by arranging blankets over tree limbs close to the toasty fire. The hog was nearly done roasting and would feed his Merry Men upon waking with voracious appetites and a hunger to raid.

“Please, Lorcan,” he said on a sigh. “Do not go babbling in your usual cryptic fashion. Come right out with it, for I am weary due to this unusual journey I’ve experienced in days past.”

Lorcan perched beside Falcon and gripped the staff with gnarled hands. “Your lady. You must know I’ve seen into the future, I’ve seen her as your intended. And though Grizella is not yet aware of it, it has been her role in this fate to force Lady Salena to see her heart more clearly where you are concerned.”

It didn’t surprise Falcon in the least. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on Salena, he’d felt a connection to her. In the back of his mind, he’d yearned to arrive here, longing for such words from this prophetic seer. There existed an undeniable bond between him and Salena that far surpassed all he’d experienced with anyone since coming into being eons ago. Now he knew it had been more than her beauty that had drawn him to her, more than her sensual charms.

Yet things did not add up.

“But she is mortal.”

Lorcan nodded and turned, puffs of white pluming from his nose and mouth. Falcon never failed to be startled by those eyes…all white. Save for the lone black pupils in the centers, they contained not one speck of color within them. He began to hum in that ancient Gaelic tune. “Mortal, aye. And I warn you…there is much unrest and possible danger ahead!” Lorcan suddenly groaned. “‘Tis all in how you handle it…”

Falcon set his hand upon the quivering leg, thin and bony even through the thickness of the woolen robe. The gesture always calmed Lorcan in these rare outbursts, but he seemed not to notice this time. Instead, he rose and jutted the staff toward the dark snow clouds, the other hand fisted. Lorcan tipped his face upward and energy swirled above him. With the movement, snow came down harder as the winds whipped up and fluttered his garment.

“
Oh gods of Fate, hear my plea. Lover and vigilante, set him free!
”

Falcon stood and stepped toward him, suddenly fearing for the old man’s existence. He’d never seen him quite this agitated before. “Lorcan, what—”

But the winds died down almost as quickly as they’d whipped up. The snowfall slowed and began to fall more gentle and serene, fluttering to the ground weightlessly.

“You shall find the way,” Lorcan roared as he stroked the medallion. He nodded vigorously and gradually lowered his head so that Falcon could peer into his mysterious eyes once again. And he could have sworn he saw tears glistening in the white orbs.

“Wizard, please, what ails you?”

“You shall find the way, I say.”

“What? To become mortal myself and finally die with this woman I may grow to love? Ah, if only…” Falcon pushed up from the seat and paced before the fire. “But if I must endure the pain again—such as with Marion—of watching her die of old age after possibly loving her for decades…nay, then I’d prefer not to love at all. Lorcan, do you hear me? You cannot allow me to love if—”

He turned then, cutting himself off. The old sorcerer was gone and in his place a cloud of lavender smoke whirled and gradually dissipated. As usual, when he’d completed his performance and had his say, there was, in Lorcan’s view, nothing more to say.

But Falcon had plenty more questions. Though he knew Lorcan would continue to speak in puzzling riddles. It was just, as always, up to Falcon to figure it out.

* * * * *

“You may rest in here,” Gowain said, gesturing to the low-ceilinged space. They were both hunched, though Gowain far more than Salena. His tall, lanky frame had towered over her out-of-doors, yet now, they both stooped, their eyes level by necessity.

She glanced around and took in the hard rock floor, and the small fire that crackled in the center, a curl of smoke wafting up through a hole in the cave’s ceiling. Looking up through the gap, she could see the darkening sky beyond the overhang of firs. Every so often, a stray flake of snow would waft down and make the flames crackle and spit. Along with the burning wood, the scent of pine needles filled her nostrils. Off against one low wall, she could see where the aroma originated. A bed had been prepared with the needles, a bear’s pelt thrown over the thick pile for comfort.

John. She instantly knew it must have been he who’d readied Falcon’s resting area. Salena shuddered, attempting to tamp down the excitement that suddenly hurdled through her body. Had he also had himself in mind to share this brigand’s lair?

No, Salena, you mustn’t think such depraved thoughts.

But she couldn’t separate those thoughts from what lay before her. The space warmed her chilled bones…just as the hot spring pool had.

“Here,” Gowain said with a boyish grin, crouch-stepping to the opposite wall, “is the private corner, or you may refer to it as the chamber pot.”

Here eyes located another hole, this time in the floor of the cave. “That?” From above, a small stream trickled down the wall and through the hole’s opening. “But I…”

“The water will carry the…waste down and out, away from camp.”

“Amazing.” She’d never heard of such a thing!

“Aye,” he said, his hazel eyes alight as he made his way to the cave’s narrow exit. “One of nature’s true wonders. Either that or…Falcon’s magical doing.”

“Please, do not remind me.”

He chuckled, straightening as he made his way outside. Gowain turned back and lowered his head, peering in at her. “Begging your pardon, milady, but…”

She arched a brow. “Yes?”

“When the spell is not upon you, I feel it my duty to advise you for your safety to stay right where you are. Unless Falcon gives you permission otherwise, that is.”

“Gowain, with all due respect, I truly appreciate your concern. But know this. Unless your master’s black magic you so proudly speak of is used, I take orders from no one. I do as I bloody well please. Therefore, I advise
you
to mind your own affairs.”

He blinked, clearly startled by her reply. “Then, with all do respect in return, Lady Tremayne, I must warn you, you will be watched with the sharp eye of a hawk. That would be, rather, well over sevenscore hawks’ eyes, by the way.”

Falcon came into view then. She would recognize those braies anywhere…and what bulged within them. He hunched down clearing the cave’s opening, and slid her a look of victory at his man’s support. Despite the taunt, every pulse point in her body palpitated. She could swear her heart burst in her chest. She likened the sight of him after only a few moments of absence—their first separation since he’d abducted her—to a lifetime without water. Salena thirsted for him, in spite of the woman Grizella—nay,
because
of her. Jealousy raged through her system like a poison, driving her to him rather than away.

And beneath all that covetousness, it infuriated her immensely that the unfamiliar emotion even existed in her heart.

“Gowain, I am pleased by your loyalty as always, son. Please, go and check with Little John. He will compensate you well for your hard work and allegiance these past weeks. Your family is in dire need of food as we speak. On the morrow, make the short journey and ease their suffering.” He clapped him on the back. “Go now and get some rest in preparation for the night’s raid.”